“Listen,” Cisco rocked back on his heels. “I don’t mean to tell any of you how to do your jobs, but treat the Washingtons with kid gloves. They’ve been through so much for so long. Don’t promise them anything you can’t deliver.”
“You got it, Cisco,” Ronan agreed, eyeing his husband.
Ten knew why Ronan was shooting him the side eye. Out of the four of them, he was the softest touch. It would be up to him to speak with the parents and keep everyone’s expectations in line with reality.
7
Ronan
Never in Ronan’s law enforcement career had he been this nervous before an interview. Cassie had sent over sandwiches and salads, but Ronan had only been able to pick at his. Jude had finished off his turkey avocado club, while Kevin ate the rest of his salad.
He had no idea where this bout of nerves was coming from, especially since the others were treating this as just another case.
“What’s on your mind?” Tennyson said from behind him. “I’m not reading you, but I can tell something is wrong.”
Ronan had been standing in Jude’s workspace in the office, staring out the window at Conant Street. “I’ve been thinking some things over,” Ronan said, turning around to face Ten. “We’ll talk about it tonight when it’s just the two of us.”
Ten nodded. “How should we handle this interview? Should Kevin take the lead? Or you? Or me?” He gave his head a shake. “We’ve met with so many witnesses in the past, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I’m standing on uneven ground.”
“You hit the nail on the head. I’m feeling the same way. Kevin and Jude act like this is just an ordinary day. Another ordinary case.” Ronan nervously raked a hand through his hair.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Ten’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“What are you talking about? You saw the two of them in the conference room snarfing down lunch like it was their last meal before walking to the electric chair.”
“That’s my point exactly,” Ten said. “Their body language reads nervous.”
Maybe Ronan hadn’t noticed because he’d been too busy worrying about himself. “My suggestion is to let the Washingtons lead the interview. Our most important job is to listen and take our cues from them.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Fitzgibbon agreed. He was holding Ronan’s jacket while trying to slip into his own.
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Ronan took his coat and felt for his keys, remembering the Mustang was at home. It had been a while since he’d interviewed anyone with Kevin at his side. He hoped it was like riding a bike and it would all come back to him.
Five minutes later, they were piled into Kevin’s SUV with the heat turned on full blast. The temperature was in the low thirties, typical for December in New England, but the east wind off the ocean made the temperature feel twenty degrees colder.
Ronan had a hundred thoughts zinging through his mind, but he kept them all to himself. He could see the others were lost in their own thoughts as well. He stared out the window and watched Salem pass him by. Whenever he and Ten were on the road with Everly, he drove Ten’s SUV, thanks to the control freak in him.
Being a passenger was a different experience. He could see houses with Christmas wreaths on the front door and darkened holiday lights glinting in the cold sunshine. It would be fun to grab some cocoa and take Ten and Everly for a drive to see the holiday lights. Everly loved sitting in the living room, lit only by the multicolored lights of their Christmas tree.
“This is the street,” Fitzgibbon muttered.
Ronan sat up straighter. He took a few deep breaths, hoping to calm his racing heart and get his head back in the game. Would the Washingtons be demanding? Sad? Hopeless? Hopeful? There were so many unknowns.
“It’s going to be okay,” Ten whispered, taking Ronan’s hand as Kevin parked across the street from the Washingtons’ long-time home.
Kissing the back of Ten’s hand, Ronan nodded before unbuckling his seatbelt.
The four men climbed out of the SUV and headed across the street. They were all dressed professionally, in suits and loafers, and bundled up in winter jackets.
The house was a colonial, faced in smooth river stones. White electric candles burned in the windows. Ronan wondered if the candles were up for the holidays, or if they’d been burning in the windows since Skye’s death. A large wreath decorated with bright-red accents adorned the front door.
Kevin’s hand was steady as he rang the doorbell. He turned to make eye contact with everyone but didn’t issue any last-minute orders.
“Hello!” An older woman greeted them at the door. She was dressed in smart black slacks with a white blouse. Her bright smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hello, Mrs. Washington. I’m Kevin Fitzgibbon, and these are my colleagues, Ronan O’Mara, Jude Byrne, and Tennyson Grimm.” Each of them raised their hands as Kevin said their names.
“Come in.” Mrs. Washington stood back from the door. “Follow me into the kitchen and please call me Muriel.”
The house was decorated for Christmas, with a large tree in the living room and garland wrapped around the banister of the stairs. As festive as the house looked, Ronan felt a chill. This was all for show.
“Would anyone like coffee or tea?” Muriel Washington gripped her hands tightly together.
“No, we’re all set, but thank you.” Fitzgibbon offered a smile before taking a seat at the large kitchen table.
A bright-pink sweatshirt sat over the back of one chair. Ronan had a feeling that was Skye’s. He avoided the chair and was happy to see the others did too.
“I’ll go get Butch. Please excuse me.” Without waiting for assent from her guests, Muriel left the kitchen.
“Am I the only one who feels like this house is going through the motions?” Ronan asked quietly.
The others nodded. Tennyson wore a worried look on his face. Ronan was about to ask him what was going through his mind when the Washingtons walked back into the kitchen.
“This is Butch,” Muriel said before introducing her husband to Ronan and his crew.
“We know you and Tennyson from your service to the community.” Butch was soft-spoken, but plugged in. “I have to admit we’re not the type of people who believe in psychics, but Tennyson’s reputation precedes him.”
Ronan felt his husband stiffen beside him. He knew what was coming next. Ten would have to open his gift and perform like a circus monkey to prove he had the powers others claimed.
“I can’t thank you enough for allowing us into your home, Muriel,” Tennyson said. “We spent the morning reading over the case file and familiarizing ourselves with what happened that awful night.” He shivered in the warm room. “What we’d like to hear from you and your husband is the more personal side of things. I want to get to know Skye through your eyes.”
Ronan was surprised by Tennyson’s direction. He assumed they would ask the Washingtons questions about the night of Skye’s disappearance, but Ten had changed the investigation by going with the personal touch.
Muriel smiled brightly. “Skye was the baby of the family. We had a son and a daughter, and assumed our family was complete, but then along came our little Skye.” Muriel’s eyes were glossy with unshed tears. “She was the peacemaker in the family. Neither her brother or sister could ever stay mad at her and she used that superpower to keep our family close.”